


Of Locks and Doors

by CarrieAnn



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Romance, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieAnn/pseuds/CarrieAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After weeks of separation, Oliver and Felicity accidentally meet in the Foundry and Oliver struggles to keep up his defenses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -This is based on the few S3 spoilers we have, primarily about 301.  
> -Oliver has pushed Diggle and Felicity away and barred them from Arrow activities. (Spec based on spoilers)  
> -I'm ignoring Ray Palmer for the most part, because I truly can't imagine how much he's going to factor in and I don't wanna!  
> -So this isn't so much speculation about S3 as it is wishful thinking.  
> -It might have future chapters, but they're not coming to me as easily as this one.  
> -This is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere, and no one else has looked at it, so it probably could have used an edit, sorry in advance! (Also: hi! i think you're all great!)  
> 

Oliver punched the new code into the keypad, and when the light turned green, he slid open the heavy steel door to the Foundry and almost walked right into Felicity.

She’d stopped when she heard the door opening on the other side, and as Oliver barreled toward her, she took a couple steps back and raised her messenger bag in front of her, shielding herself from the collision. "Whoa," she breathed.

Oliver instinctively reached for her to steady them both, but just as quickly dropped his arms again and eyed her nervously. That's when it registered, and his discomfort turned to confusion. "I changed the code,” he said.

Felicity nodded, eyebrows raised. "Nice to see you too. And yes, I noticed. I built the system, Oliver. Do you think I wouldn't put an override in place?"

He sighed and looked at her as evenly as he could. He hoped his face was clear of emotion, but he knew sometimes he ended up going past neutral to somewhere more like a scowl.

She hoisted her bag back on her shoulder and said, "Okay, well, I was just here to drop something off. I left it for you on my desk." Oliver noted those last two words, but didn't respond, and she rolled her eyes and pushed past him toward the door.

"Do I need to have a new security system installed?" he asked over his shoulder.

Felicity stopped mid-step, and looked down with a wry chuckle. Finally she turned to him and said, "If I were you? I wouldn't bother. I'll just get through that one too." Oliver gritted his teeth and silently willed her to leave, but she seemed to make up her mind about something and came back toward him instead.

"Oliver, you can shut down and you can shut me out--that’s your choice. But I'm going to keep doing this work because it's important to me. You can't stop me from living the life that _I chose_."

Felicity’s voice cracked slightly, and Oliver ached to touch her. But he held his arms firmly at his sides. "I'm just trying to make sure that life is long, and healthy, and....”

She shook her head, but her face had softened. “Dig and I have stayed away out of respect for you, and this...process you’re going through. Because you’re stubborn, and you have to do this your way, and all we want is for you to come out on the other side.”

Felicity took another step toward him and continued, “But I want you to come out on the side of _us_.” She faltered for a moment, but knew it was pointless to pretend she didn’t mean _that_ too. She closed her eyes briefly and clarified, “I mean, on the side of, you know, humanity. Of being more than just some vigilante robot. And just scientifically speaking, I’m starting to think that you're not putting the best conditions in place to get to that result. How are you going to figure out how to be a whole person, with a whole life, if you cut off everything that makes you human?”

Oliver grimaced, and focused on a point between her eyebrows--a trick he’d learned from Amanda, to appear to maintain eye contact when your nerves were shot. “I’m not--I just can’t see how to have that life, and I won’t force anyone else to live this way.”

Felicity lifted her shoulders, “By ‘this way,’ do you mean a life that makes me feel proud, and strong, and sort of amazing? A life that includes you? I don’t need protection from that life. I love that life.”

Oliver let his eyes coast over her face, and he saw that look there, the one she had when they’d said the words that needed to be said. The words that he kept in a drawer in the dark, in a room sealed with a thousand locks, in the deepest depths of him. Another trick he learned in his time away. Sometimes, Oliver let himself go to the room, but only to remind himself of its existence; not to open the drawer and see the words, not to let them out where he could feel them.

But Felicity didn't know about the words in the drawer in the locked room. She didn't know how much work it took to keep things in their places, and she was undoing all of it. She reached out and laid a hand on his elbow, and he shrank from the touch. She waited, but wouldn't pull back. When he stilled, she slid her hand down his arm. He swallowed hard, but didn't stop her from wrapping his hand in hers. Part of him wanted to wrest his hand free, and push her out the door and slam it shut and lock it and barricade it if necessary. But he felt tired, so tired of all of that, and her hand on his was like a lullaby. He finally looked up at her wearily.

“Oliver...this isn't just about protecting Dig, or Thea, or me. It’s about protecting yourself. I know, because I lived my life that way for a long time. My father left, and my mother wasn't someone I could rely on, and I just decided it was easier not to need anyone.” Despite his efforts to be still, Oliver felt himself squeezing her hand. She looked down at it with a small smile.

“Then I started working with you, and somewhere along the line, I realized that I had come to need you guys and all of this--without even noticing it was happening.” She brushed his hand with her thumb and his breath caught in his throat. “And it made me happy. It made me better.

“So I knew the risks--” Oliver tensed and Felicity shook her head, “--I’m not talking about my safety. I’m talking about the risk of losing you. That I could come to need you, and you could….” She trailed off, but steeled herself and continued, “You could be gone. I know that. And it scares the hell out of me, Oliver. So I do what I can to keep you safe. I make sure we’re all as prepared and protected as we can be.”

“Felicity…” he breathed. He thought about her installing their systems; revamping the lair; special-ordering his bows and arrows; hacking into various agency networks to keep tabs on their foes.

Making sure they were prepared and protected and

Keeping him safe because

because _she loved him_ because _she needed him_ because _she wanted to live her life with him_.

Cracks formed and the words seeped out.

She watched him, their faces now only inches apart, afraid to do anything that could make him crawl back to his dark corner. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Needing people doesn't make you weak--and I get it if you’re not there yet, but even losing them doesn't have to mean losing who you are. Losing people isn't the risk. Never letting them in is.”

Oliver kept his eyes closed, but he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on her hand. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to let her back in, right that moment. To say Yes instead of No for once. To just pull her into his arms and kiss her and then take her home and never leave. To learn what kind of movie she watches on rainy Saturdays, and how she likes her eggs. To make her dinner and encourage her to talk about systems he would never understand, just so he could listen to the rise and fall of her voice. To trace the shape of her back and run his hands through her hair. To lie next to her at night and whisper her name before he fell asleep.

To have a life with her. To love her.

To just love her like the words said.

Instead, he squeezed her hand one more time before letting go. “I’m sorry.”

Sadness spread over Felicity’s face, but she blinked it away. She looked at him another second, then gave a shaky half-smile and said, “Okay, I’m leaving. Be safe, please.” She brushed his arm again, and then the door thudded shut and she was gone.

Oliver’s shoulders dropped and he exhaled heavily as he walked over to the desk. A white paper bag sat in front of the center monitor, and next to it lay a USB drive half-covered by a post-it note.

> _Info on Browne & Lathrop, LLC. --F_

He wondered for a second how she knew about his current target, but remembered the security system and realized there were probably any number of ways Felicity could keep tabs on Arrow business. He felt simultaneously proud and sad at the thought.

As he inserted the drive, he picked up the paper bag. A Big Belly Burger logo greeted him on the opposite side, above another post-it.

> _Please eat something. --F_

and underneath that, smaller:

> _I miss you._

Oliver sank into her chair--it was hers, they both knew that--and crumpled in half. It was the last blow, the knockout. She was just going to keep loving him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes, and his throat burned.

The cracks that had appeared when Felicity touched him and he let her now spread and dissolved, and there was no drawer, no room, no space left that wasn't flooded by it, this love that he’d tried to contain. Now he knew that was never possible--it would always regenerate and return like the tide, like a wave filling holes on the shore.

She would always find a way back in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity works out her tangled feelings and she and Oliver have another accidental encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Once again, based on spoilers, but now we're really spinning away from anything likely to happen, and I'm just 95% avoiding Ray Palmer, because I can.  
> -Thought I'd give Felicity's perspective a go--it's harder for me to write from there, for some reason, but I thought it was important to address her reservations too, and it ended up being pretty fun.  
> -I'm posting the last chapter or two today too, I think. Those will be...happy.  
> -Thanks so much for the love for Chapter 1. It made me much more inspired to keep pushing with these parts.

Felicity peered at her blurry reflection in the elevator doors of the Queen Consolidated parking garage, squinting at the white smear on her shoulder. She twisted her head to the right and rolled her eyes when she saw that she’d neglected to cut the price tag off her navy dress. Snapping it off with a sharp tug, she stepped on the elevator and gave silent thanks that she hadn't run into any other QC employees. So far that was the only bright side to being at work at this hour on a Saturday.

Operating outside of the normal circadian rhythm was nothing new to Felicity. Vegas was a nocturnal town, and it gave her great training for long nights of coding and cramming at MIT. But in the last two years, she’d pulled more all-nighters than ever before. Now she had her morning-after routine down pat. Cold water on a washcloth, pop it in the freezer while she took a shower, press to eyelids to reduce puffiness. Eyedrops, and definitely no contacts for the day. A few minutes of yoga to limber up. Big breakfast; no coffee until after. (Then _a lot_ of coffee.) Quick check for wounds, if applicable, and cover with wardrobe or makeup.

That wound check was N/A today, as it had been for some time. And Felicity didn't spend her night in the Foundry on comms or hacking a federal agency network. She spent it in her bed, fighting with her pillows; then on her couch, staring through her TV, through a magazine, through her laptop, not really seeing any of it.

Mostly, she spent the night replaying her conversation with Oliver. She'd had a feeling while talking to him--like an epiphany, only she didn't actually know what she'd discovered. It nagged at her, so a few hours into her insomnia, she began to approach it like a puzzle. And as she worked it throughout the night and into the morning, she realized that the epiphany was that she actually believed everything she'd said to him. All of her fears about losing herself, who she was, weren't as strong as her will to live this life. Her will was stronger, she as a person was stronger, which in itself proved the fear unfounded. She found the logic of this conclusion very satisfying. Comforting.

She'd extended this logical process to her other big fears.

Step 1: _Name it._ That She Would Lose Oliver, and It Would Be Devastating.

Step 2: _Evaluate the premise. Is it true?_ Part A: Possibly. Part B: Yes, if A, then B.

  * Subquestion: _Can you affect the outcome?_   Part A: Probably not. Part B: Well, that's the question, isn't it?
  * Subquestion: _Why would it be devastating?_   Because she loved him. Because she needed him in her life.



Step 3: _Identify possible approaches, given these conditions._

  1. Stop loving/needing him.
  2. Continue doing that, but not with him in her life.
  3. Same, but with him in her life.



Step four: _Evaluate approaches._

Approach 1: Proven not to be possible. ( _cf.,_  The last few months, and the ones before that, since he took that hood off in her car, or maybe even earlier.)

  * Subquestion: _Why had it proved impossible?_ Her fears--which were real, and big, and not unfounded--were not stronger than her desire to have him in her life, to love him, to do this thing together.



Conclusion: If that is true, then it is worth the risk. That was what she knew, what she'd realized while saying it to him in slightly different words.

So. Success. She had figured it all out. She found the secret door and the key to unlock it. But it didn't matter, because Oliver wouldn't come through it with her. She could type up all of these findings and present them to him in a bound volume and she could argue the truth of it all day long, and it didn't mean he had to feel the same way. And maybe he never would. She’d been almost relieved as night gave way to disgustingly early morning, so she could just give up on the idea of sleeping at all.

She leaned against the back of the elevator car and closed her eyes, waiting to arrive on the 22nd floor, but the elevator chimed too early and she quickly straightened up. The doors slid open on the lobby level. Felicity looked up, and a small “Oh!” escaped her as Oliver nearly walked into her for the second time in twelve hours.

He rocked back a step and stopped there in the path of the elevator doors for a moment, saying, "Oh--hey." 

Her heart was beating hard, but she hoped her voice sounded normal when she asked, "Seriously, do you ever look before you walk through a door?"

He gave her a tight smile, stepping in next to her and pushing the button for the 25th floor, and said, "Sorry. I was distracted."

"Wait--what are you doing here?" she asked, cocking her head.

His smile relaxed a bit. "I wanted to drop off some paperwork in person. I acquired a few companies."

"For Queen Consolidated?"

" _From_ Queen Consolidated.” He almost laughed at her dropped jaw. “I'm taking my company back, piece by piece if necessary. Starting with some assets Ray had undervalued." At her continued, unusual silence, Oliver explained, "Ray's focus has been on Applied Sciences and Technology--" his eyes cut quickly to hers and just as quickly away, "--which it should be; that's the real value in QC. But in the meantime, I'm going to pick up the pieces he's leaving behind, and see if I can't build them up."

Felicity was still trying to process this when the elevator chimed again, and the doors opened to her floor. There was a warmth, a spark of light in her chest, and she let it spread. That was part of it--the key, the answer she'd arrived at last night. Letting it in, even when it felt scary. She put one hand on the door frame to keep it from closing and the other on his forearm, and said, "I'm...I'm really proud of you, Oliver."

He held her gaze as she let her hand trail off his arm, and she stepped out of the elevator. The doors were closing between them when he suddenly moved forward, eyes bright, as though he'd just woken from a dream. He began to say "Felicity..." before the doors sealed shut and he was gone.

She blinked several times, unable to move. She felt an urge to hit the Up button; she looked at the stairwell, thought about running up the three flights. Thought about bursting out on the 25th floor and demanding he finish that sentence. “‘Felicity,’ _what?_ ” But instead, she let out a big breath and started toward her office.

She only made it halfway before she heard the soft chime from behind her, and turned to see the elevator doors opening, and once again, Oliver stepped through. He stopped just outside them, looking at her.

“Oliver...?” She crossed back over to him. “Is everything okay?”

He gave her a smile--one of his real smiles, his old smiles, even though she could see his eyes were shining--and said, “Yeah, I just--I wanted to tell you that I miss you, too.”

She'd almost forgotten her note, in light of everything else that was said and not said last night. Now the warmth rekindled in Felicity’s chest, then spread down and up and out, and she felt like her whole body was buzzing, but she kept her eyes locked on his. “Okay....”

"And, I--" his eyes dropped for a moment, and he shifted a little nervously and said, “And I owe you dinner. Do you have any plans? I mean, can I take you to dinner? Or else--if tonight’s not good, or if you d--”

“Dinner would be great, yes,” Felicity heard herself say. Something had happened, or was happening, and she wasn't sure exactly what. But she couldn't stop looking at Oliver’s face. It was open, and warm, and she hadn't seen him like this in so long. Her gaze flitted from his smile to his eyes, looking for some hint that he might not be fully back yet, but she didn't find it. She blinked and said, “Um, but could we just pick something up? I don’t want to go anywhere tonight. All I’d be thinking about is going home with you.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows.

Felicity choked, “Not--not like that. I mean…. Yes, like that. But no, I mean, because I want to talk to you. And we can’t really talk in public.”

Oliver nodded with a smirk, which quickly turned softer, his eyes wandering over her before he seemed to remember himself. “Okay, we’ll pick something up. 7:00?” He pushed the button to call the elevator back. “I have to head back to the Foundry to lock things down in there. Can’t be too careful. We've had a few break-ins.”

She gave him a half-hearted glare and shove toward the elevator, and watched him for a beat. Then she jumped in next to him before the doors closed, and smiled at his surprise. “I don’t actually have anything to do here today, and you’re right, the security system at the Foundry could use a little tweaking.”

He nodded at her, an almost shy smile on his lips. “Sounds like we're going the same way.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity have dinner, talk, etc.

Cartons surrounded them in Felicity’s living room. Neither of them had actually eaten much--her stomach was knotted up just being around Oliver again, and they had a lot of catching up to do. They’d spent most of the day together in the Foundry, but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement that they’d leave the important stuff for dinner.

While they ate, she’d told him more about her mother’s visit, and working for Ray. He told her about Roy’s training and his worries about Thea. They reached a lull in the conversation, and Oliver started to clean up. Felicity thought about helping him, but she could tell he wanted to do it, and they might both need a minute to prepare for Stage 2 of this…date?

She was standing at her fireplace, topping off her glass of wine on the mantle, when Oliver came back in the room. He leaned against the doorway and just looked at her for a minute. She’d changed into royal blue jeans, and a sleeveless white top, and she was so beautiful it made his stomach drop.

They both gave a little half-chuckle at the same time, and then Oliver said, “So.”

Felicity nodded once. “So.”

He smiled broadly, and then it faded to something softer. “So, I love you.”

Her eyes widened and then she let them fall closed. A smile played on her lips as he walked toward her. “Well. That never gets less stunning, it seems.” He reached for her hand, slowly running his fingertips along her palm, threading their fingers together, and she asked, “Oliver, what happened?”

He exhaled. “I don’t know. I just--I thought I’d done a pretty thorough job of pushing you out. I thought I had really put it all away, but then you just show up and in minutes…” He looked at her again, pink lips and and perfect ponytail and those eyes, and he wasn't sure how he’d stayed away for any amount of time at all. “I don’t know if I have this all figured out yet, but I know I don’t want to keep trying without you. I guess--I guess I just took a chance that you were right.”

Felicity smiled and shrugged, “I usually am, just for future reference.”

He laughed and nodded, "Got it," but then his face turned a little serious and he let go of her hand. “But, it’s really up to you. If you’d rather...wait until I know how to make everything work--or, or not wait, I mean, you don’t have to--”

“I don’t want to--wait, I mean.” She found herself drawing closer to him, “Or, _not_ wait. To go through whatever, with you.” Her words were getting quieter and drawn out, as their heads inclined toward each other, eyes watching mouths, until she barely breathed, “I mean--God, I am not saying this right at all--” and he reached for her face with both hands, and then her lips were pressing against his.

Everything went bright and quiet for a moment, and then it all came rushing back in, and blood was pounding in Oliver’s ears and through his body. He became hyperaware of every part of Felicity; of her every movement. The way her breath caught when he ran his fingertips along her jaw. Her arms circled around his neck, one hand cupping the back of his head, the fingers of the other squeezing into his shoulder. Her body tentatively easing into his. And her lips. Her lips.

Then Felicity ducked her head for a moment and they both caught their breath. Resting her hands against his chest, she said, “What I wanted to say--what I was trying to say--is that yes, I want to figure this out together. Because I love you.” She turned her face into his palm, and kissed it. “I don’t want to wait anymore, because I love you.”

Oliver’s heart was pounding so hard, his entire body was trembling with every beat. She looked up at him, flushed, eyes dark and more beautiful than he’d ever seen them. “And I want you to stay here tonight, because I love you.”

He let out a breath and then pulled her back into him and kissed her, taking her bottom lip between his as he’d imagined a million times before, letting his tongue trail along her lips before they opened to his. With one hand, he smoothed over her ponytail, before sliding the elastic off and filling both hands with her hair. Her hands were running over his chest, his arms, the hair at the back of his neck; tiny moans reverberating against his mouth.

“Felicity,” he murmured, and he moved to trail kisses along her jaw. He pressed his forehead against hers for a few breaths. “Are you sure?” he asked.

She tilted her head back a few inches and looked at him with a soft smile on her reddened lips. Then she turned slowly and walked toward her bedroom. As she moved, she lifted her shirt up and off, and by the time she let it go, Oliver was right behind her. He spun her back around and kissed her, hands skimming over her shoulders and her back, sliding just under the clasp of her bra. Then her fingers were over his, and the clasp was undone, and Felicity pulled back to let the bra fall to the floor. She looked at him then, and when he managed to meet her eyes again, she smiled, “So, I’m pretty sure, okay?”

Oliver leaned back into her, kissing her against the door, while she turned the knob behind her back and gave it a little push. He lifted her against him and carried her into the bedroom, nipping her collarbone while she tugged his shirt up. He set her down to get it the rest of the way off, and she pressed her forehead to his chest and breathed him in. He let his fingers trail up and down her back and she shivered.  

He felt shivery too--blood pumping, nerve-endings humming--but steady enough to slide a hand along the waistband of her jeans, one finger on the underside until he reached the button in front. Felicity held her breath as he worked her button and zipper open. She lifted her face to his again, and he kissed her, his tongue finding hers, his hands skimming over her hips as he eased her jeans down her thighs.

“Hmmmm,” she murmured against his lips. “You know, I have thought about this once or twice.”

Oliver was practically panting at this point, but he still huffed a half-laugh at that. “Oh?”

“Well, you walk around like this half the time we’re together,” she said, indicating his naked torso. He gave a little shrug, and kissed her beneath her earlobe and she continued, “I mean, maybe that’s why in my scenario, your pants always came off first.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and she tugged on his beltloops. He obliged, tilting his hips toward her, and she smiled and nodded, then got to work. She reached up to kiss him as she unbuckled his belt, pulling it from around his hips and tossing it aside. She placed one hand on his chest, and with the other, she unbuttoned and unzipped, fingers lightly brushing over the hardness underneath. She pulled the sides of his jeans open and tugged down, and they fell past his knees. He stepped out of them, and said, “Okay? Any other thoughts?”

She said, “Oh God, tons, yes, all kinds,” pulling her own jeans the rest of the way off her legs. Oliver shook his head, and then swept her up in his arms. “So many it’s gonna make your head spin,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair as he lowered them both onto the bed.

For a moment, he just hovered over her, struggling to believe this was really happening. He couldn't always stop himself from thinking about this, but he never let himself linger too long. Even when he dreamed about her, he’d wake up and the memories of the dream would flee from him, breaking and blowing away like ashes, and he was left with only vague impressions. Of happiness, of desire, of love.

But whatever he might have imagined, it would never have come close. The last pieces of clothing removed, their bodies pressed together with nothing else between. Moving together, and then apart as he traveled down her body. Hips arcing up up up and then down; gasping and sighing. Softness. Heat. Nails digging into his shoulder; legs wrapped around his hips. Moaning and swearing and whispering her name and hearing his own; their hands laced together, sinking into the sheets. Burying his face in her neck, feeling her pulse against his mouth. Slowing. Breathing.

All the years and other women and all the things he thought he knew--none of it prepared him for this. Maybe because of how long he’d denied it; how hard he fought to make it disappear. He was not prepared for how much more he would feel when he stopped fighting. Now that he’d let himself see the truth of it and feel the depth of it, it was overwhelming.

And she knew. It was in his eyes, in his shaky breathing, and he knew she could feel the tremble under the surface. With light fingertips, she began tracing over a scar on his shoulder. “Oliver,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the scar. Then she rolled him slightly over, and moved to another scar, on his ribs, tracing, kissing. Then the one above his heart, and after she kissed it, she said, “I wish I could do something about these.”

His eyes closed for a moment and he said, “You do something every day.” He’d stopped trembling, and he was going to say more, but then he heard her voice instead--

“I love you, Oliver.”

He felt tears prick his eyes, but he smiled and nuzzled her cheek, and started again, “Felicity.” For him, her name was always a full sentence. One that meant  _I’m here; I hear you; Be safe; I’m sorry; I love you._

I love you.

"I'm in love with you."

Though she knew it was coming, Felicity still felt a shiver start in her chest and work out to her fingers and down to her toes. “Yeah.”

“And I'm not giving that up again. I'm not going anywhere.”

She swallowed and managed to breathe out, “I know.” It was a fairy tale promise, the Happily Ever After, not the kind of thing you can really control. But she knew what he meant, and she knew he would try, and she would too. And, this, this was it. This was what they kept locked away; what had always been on the other side of the door they never opened. What they felt every time her hand grazed his. What they were trying to say, all those times they said something else instead. It was a promise, almost overwhelming in its magnitude, of a life with more joy and meaning and love--with just _more_ than either of them had ever let themselves believe was possible. It was a promise they would fight to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Oh, look at that. I accidentally sorta wrote a sex scene. I actually kind of didn't mean to, but there it is.  
> -Thanks one more time for your support! I look forward to writing more here.


End file.
